Demi-God

"Keep your stance wide, boy," Drakon grunted, his breath coming in short bursts. "You'll tire yourself out before we're halfway through if you don't."

Lucian adjusted his footing, mimicking the old man's posture. "Like this?"

"Better," Drakon nodded, pausing to survey their work. The massive oak before them bore deep gashes where their axes had struck true. "Now, remember what I taught you. Aim for the same spot, over and over. It's just like sword training – consistency is key."

Lucian hefted his ax once more, bringing it down with a satisfying thunk. Chips of wood flew as he struck the tree again and again.

"So," he panted between swings, "how much longer do you think before it falls?"

Drakon chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Patience. Trees don't give up easily, and neither should you. This is as much about endurance as it is strength."

They worked in companionable silence for a time, the forest around them alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves. Lucian's arms began to ache, but he pushed through.

"Hey," Lucian ventured after a while, "what are we doing with this again?"

The older man's ax paused mid-swing. "I told you we’re going to fix your roof."

"Really? What made you decide to do that today?"

"I just feel like it,l ok? So, are you going to help me or not?"

"For crying out loud, I’m here am I?" Lucian said, returning to his task.

The tree creaked and groaned under their assault, its proud trunk finally beginning to sway.

"Stand back!" Drakon shouted, grabbing Lucian's arm and pulling him clear.

With a tremendous crash, the oak toppled, sending birds scattering from nearby branches.

As the dust settled, Drakon clapped Lucian on the shoulder. "Well done, boy. Now, for the real work."

They set about stripping the fallen giant of its branches, Drakon showing Lucian how to remove the bark in long strips.

"Ok, here’s what you need to do next," he grunted, tossing aside a piece of bark. "We need to section this trunk into beams. Each cut needs to be straight and even—no room for sloppiness."

"Straight and even," Lucian repeated, "got it."

They started measuring and marking, Drakon's eye catching any mistakes before they could turn into problems. With each mark of the charcoal, Lucian began chopping and slicing the wood.

"Keep your back straight," Drakon reminded, glancing over. "Efficiency in motion means less strain on the body."

"I know."

By the time they finished, the sun had begun its descent towards the horizon. Lucian's hands were blistered, but a sense of accomplishment swelled in his chest as he surveyed their handiwork.

"Come on," Drakon said, hoisting one end of the stripped log. "Let's get this back to the farm. Your mother will be wondering where we've gotten to."

Lucian took the other end.

The farmlands came into view, golden wheat swaying in the late afternoon breeze. He spotted his sister and mother working in the fields, their backs bent as they tended to the crops.

"Over here," Drakon directed, leading them towards the house.

They set the log down near it, and the old man immediately began assessing the roof.

"Right then," he said, hands on his hips. "We'll need to replace some of these supports before we lay the new thatch. You up for a bit more work?"

"Just tell me what to do."

They set about gathering materials – sturdy branches for supports, bundles of straw for thatching. Drakon showed Lucian how to weave the straw tightly, creating a waterproof barrier against the elements.

Lucian mulled this over as they continued their task. The sun dipped lower, making long shadows across the land. From their perch on the roof, he could see his mother and sister making their way back from the fields, baskets heavy with the day's harvest.

"Almost finished," Drakon announced, securing the last bit of thatch. "Your family will sleep dry tonight, that's for certain."

"Thanks a lot for this," Lucian wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of dirt across his temple. "I couldn't have done it without your help."

"Don’t fret yourself. This help is not free."

"Are you being serious right now?"

"Yeah, you’re going to fetch me a whole new bottle of wine."

"Again? You just had one this morning?"

"I know. But a man's work is never done, and neither is his thirst," Drakon replied, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Besides, I’ve earned it, haven't I?"

"Fine," Lucian rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Next time, get it yourself."

As they began to climb down, a flicker of movement caught Lucian's eye. He squinted against the fading light, making out the shape of a lone horseman approaching along the road.

"Hey, old bag," he hissed, pointing at the man. "Look there – isn't that General Brasidas?"

Drakon followed the boy's gaze, his expression darkening as he recognized the rider. "Broad shoulder…face looks like a weenie baby. Yeah, that's him alright. What business does he have out here, I wonder?"

"I don’t know."

They watched as the general drew closer, his steed kicking up dust from the road. What could bring one of Sparta's most renowned warriors to their humble farm?

As Brasidas approached, Lucian couldn't help but stand a little straighter, acutely aware of the contrast between the battle-hardened Spartan and his own dirt-streaked appearance.

"Drakon. Lucian. Good day to you both."

Drakon stepped forward, wiping his hands with a rag. "What brings you to our farm, General?"

"I'd prefer to speak in private, if possible."

"Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Lucian. I keep no secrets from the boy."

Brasidas looked over at Lucian, then shifted back at Drakon. "Very well. Might we continue this conversation inside?"

Drakon turned to Lucian, waving his hand. "Put away the tools, boy. Then join us."

As Lucian hurried to comply, Drakon led Brasidas into the modest farmhouse. They settled at the rough-hewn dining table, then moments later, Lucian slipped inside, taking a seat beside his mentor.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open as Ianthe and Lexi entered, stopping short at the sight of their unexpected guest.

"Oh, we have a visitor," Ianthe said.

Brasidas inclined his head. "My apologies for the intrusion."

"It's no trouble," she assured him. "We were about to prepare the evening meal anyway. Would you like to join us for dinner?"

"I think that would be lovely. Thank you."

"Great," she turned to her daughter. "Lexi, see to the food," then to Lucian, "fetch some water from the well would you, dear?"

"Sure, mother," Lucian nodded and headed outside.

Brasidas leaned forward and continued. "I'll get to the point of my visit."

"Ok. Go on," Drakon said.

"Do you recall our conversation with King Leonidas about sending scouts to Thrace?"

"Yes, I remember. What of it?"

"The scouts have returned. Or rather, their heads have. Separated from their bodies."

"Gods above," he muttered. "What of the rest of them?"

"No sign. We can only assume the worst."

Lucian returned, setting a jug of water on the table then went to help his mother and sister with the preparations.

"I still don’t know where I fit in all of this," Drakon asked, reaching for a cup and pouring some water.

Brasidas's eyes darted to Lucian, then back to the old man. "We need intelligence against the Persians in Thrace. We need tough fighters like you to gather some information about them; how many they are and all that. You did this before didn’t you?"

"Me? But I’m an exiled old Spartan. I can’t work with the regular army. The only reason why the people don’t throw me out is because of my reputation of being the Wolf of Sparta."

Brasidas let out a long breath. "I know, that’s why I’m keeping this under the table."

"Really? Does Leonidas know about this?"

"He was the one who gave me the nod, albeit unofficially. You get what I'm saying?"

Drakon rubbed his grizzled chin. "What’s the pay? I want it in drachmas."

"You drive a hard bargain for an exiled warrior."

"A man's gotta eat."

The General let out a sigh. "Ok, how about thirty drachmas now, and seventy when you return with the information we need?"

"Bullshit. I want more."

"Fine," he said through clenched teeth. "Fifty now, a hundred on your return. But that’s my final offer. We can’t have the treasury running dry because of one man’s greed."

Lucian continued setting the table, adding an extra place for their unexpected guest. From the kitchen area, he could hear the soft clink of pottery as Lexi stirred something in a pot.

"Smells good," he called out to his sister. "What are we having?"

"Barley stew. With some of those herbs we gathered last week."

"Nice."

"I think this is done," she said, carrying the steaming pot and setting it down on the table, then returning to the kitchen for a loaf of bread.

Ianthe followed, bringing a small jug of watered wine. "It's not much," she said to Brasidas, "but we're glad to share what we have."

"Your hospitality is appreciated," a smile graced his lips before he turned back to Drakon while Ianthe headed back to the kitchen. "So, what will be your answer?"

"Is the boy coming with me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. He was highly recommended by a Spartan soldier named Stephanos."

"Is it now?"

"Yes, he described Lucian as a very capable warrior and would be a great addition to the mission."

"I don’t know about that," Drakon glanced briefly at the young boy, who was focused on cutting vegetables with his sister. "His family would be exposed without him here to protect them. Plus, I don’t know if he’s ready."

"Don’t worry. You’ll be there with him. Think of it as his first real mission."

"I know, but—"

"Does the boy know?" Brasidas interjected. "You know, about his father?"

Drakon shook his head. "No, I haven't told him yet."

"When are you going to tell him?"

"Never. I guess."

"Here we are," Lucian returned with a platter of fresh vegetables. "Can we start?" His eyes lingered on the two men, sensing the weight of their unfinished dialogue. "Oh, did I came in a bad time?"

"No," Drakon said. "Please continue."

"Ok," Lucian placed the platter on the table and sat down next to his sister, who was already ladling stew into bowls. "Thanks."

Alexia smiled at him, passing him a bowl filled with the hearty stew. "Eat up. You'll need your strength."

"How about me?" Drakon asked, raising his plate.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Enough with you two," Ianthe walked into the room with bread and a cloth to wrap the leftovers. "Lexi, give him some stew. There's more than enough," she turned to the General, "and you, sir, please have as much as you like."

"Much appreciated."

——

Lucian stood beside Drakon, both of them gazing out over the moonlit fields. The day's revelations weighed heavily upon them, the silence between them thick with unspoken questions.

Finally, Lucian broke the quiet. "Brasidas wants me to go with you?"

"Yes," Drakon nodded. "We'll be gone for a while. You'll need to tell your family soon."

Lucian turned to face his mentor. "How long is this journey going to be?"

"The journey itself? About ten days, give or take. But we'll be in Thrace for a few weeks after that. We'll have lodgings there, and our job will be to watch the Persians, gather what information we can."

"And the cost? How will we manage?"

"King Leonidas is providing for our expenses. We don't need to worry about that."

Lucian's brow furrowed as another thought struck him. "My family... who will look after them while we're gone?"

"Brasidas has that covered. He's stationing soldiers here to keep an eye on things in our absence."

"And... payment? For us, I mean."

Drakon's lips quirked in a half-smile. "Ah, now we get to the heart of it. We'll get fifty drachmas up front. Another one hundred when the mission is complete."

Lucian's eyes widened at the sum. It was more money than he'd ever seen in his life. He could already imagine the improvements they could make to the farm, the security it could provide for his family.

For a few minutes, he stood silent, weighing the opportunity against the risks. He thought of his mother and sister, of the hard life they led. He thought of the chance to see beyond the confines of their small farm.

"I'll do it," he finally said. "Let’s go."

Drakon clasped his shoulder. "Good. Get some rest. We have a lot of preparation ahead of us."